


not if it's you

by keishouta



Series: it's rotten work being with me [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Mysophobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Time Skip, Sick Character, Sickfic, pretend samson foster isn't their coach, pretend you don't know the other msby members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keishouta/pseuds/keishouta
Summary: Atsumu just wants to help.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: it's rotten work being with me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822786
Comments: 4
Kudos: 444





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Sakusa does upon waking up is take a long hot shower, because to say he feels disgusting is an understatement. He could have stayed in the shower for hours, scrubbing his skin like a washboard, but Atsumu knocks on the bathroom door after a short thirty minutes and asks him if he was okay in there, so Sakusa pulls himself out with reluctance. 

Sakusa only begins to talk once a new mask is securely over his face, and Atsumu waits patiently with no complaint. There are many things that Sakusa wants to say to him, but a terse "You shouldn't be here" is what ends up leaving his mouth. 

Atsumu gasps dramatically, bringing his hand to his chest with a flair. "Omi-omi, is that what ya say to the man who just took care of ya and stayed by yer side for hours?"

Sakusa narrows his eyes. "You might get sick."

Atsumu drops the act and breaks into a grin, teasing but only slightly. "Aww Omi-kun, are ya worried 'bout me? Don't be, my immune system's great!"

Sakusa looks away. "I just don't want to be blamed after."

Atsumu smiles even wider and it makes his eyes crinkle. "I wouldn't blame ya! It was my decision to come over, remember?"

Sakusa merely frowns as he sits down, a small cough contained in his mask. 

"How're ya feelin'?" Atsumu asks, voice tinged with worry.

Sakusa waves him off, "I'm fine, better now that I'm no longer nauseous."

"Was the soup that bad?" Atsumu fake laughs. "Guess it was kinda my fault, sorry Omi-omi."

Sakusa rushes to deny it. "It wasn't. I appreciated you bringing the soup. Thank you."

The uneasiness leaves Atsumu's face in an instant. "No need to thank me, Omi-omi! That's what friends are for!" Sakusa doesn't reply and a silence falls over them. Atsumu bites his bottom lip. "Y'know, I didn't know yer germ thing was so serious."

Sakusa swallows. "I usually have it under control."

"Does it happen often?" Atsumu asks. "The panic attacks?" 

"They used to, but not anymore," Sakusa truthfully answers.

Atsumu nods in understanding. "Has it happened recently?"

Sakusa shakes his head. "Not really, not since joining the Black Jackals."

"You'll tell us if it ever happens again, right?" Atsumu's eyes are wide with hope.

Sakusa raises an eyebrow. "Why?" 

"So we can help," Atsumu answers, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

Sakusa's gaze darkens. "I don't need help."

Atsumu only looks mildly offended. "What, ya don't want us to help?"

Sakusa shrugs. "It's not your burden to handle."

"Yer ain't a burden, Omi-kun, at least not to me."

Sakusa freezes. He doesn't know how to respond. Because his germophobia is a burden, and it's his burden that he's had to bear the weight of for nearly his entire life. And now here was someone, willing to take it on with him.

Because to Miya Atsumu, it isn't _I like Sakusa Kiyoomi despite his germophobia._ Rather, it is just _I like Sakusa Kiyoomi._


	2. Chapter 2

And maybe the universe wanted to play its wicked tricks on Sakusa, because what he doesn't want to happen actually does happen, and in front of his teammates and bleachers filled with an audience, no less.

The V-League finals, and one of the members in the opposing team is down with a cold and is, rudely, not being benched. He looks terrible, Sakusa can see it plainly all the way from his side of the court.

He flat out refuses to play in the match, in fact, he wants to leave the entire stadium altogether. His coach becomes furious when he tells him, so mad his veins pop out from his forehead and he has to stop to take a breather.

Sakusa stands there motionless. He does nothing as he watches Atsumu pull their coach to a corner and speak to him in hushed tones. He knows they're talking about him, and his germ problem, and he finds himself wanting to run out of the arena even more.

Atsumu comes over and quietly apologises to him, and his face adorns a sadness and regret that Sakusa wants to slap off. His coach storms past him, muttering something about importance and ridiculousness, and merely instructs him to start warming up.

Sakusa collects himself. He blankly goes through his usual pre-game motions. His heart thumps faster when he takes off his mask and jacket. He closes his eyes and reminds himself to continue regulating his breathing.

The whistle blows, and Atsumu glances at him from his starting position. It looks like he's asking him if he's okay. Sakusa just turns his head away, and that's more of an answer he thinks it is.

The opposing team's captain is serving first. The ball hasn't touched the sick man yet. It flies across the net and Sakusa receives it cleanly, and it bounces smoothly over to Atsumu.

The Black Jackals score and their opponents move. The sick man rotates into serving position. He spins the ball in his hands three times.

There is a blockage in Sakusa's throat and it slowly grows larger, and the air entering his lungs slowly grows lesser. He is audibly breathing now. He thinks Atsumu calls him.

The ball soars over the net again, and Sakusa doesn't want to but he freezes with his wrists outstretched forwards, and it drops to the floor right in front of him.

The score becomes 1-1, and his coach is yelling once again.

Sakusa shifts out of the back row. He feels too close to the other team, only separated by a thin net full of holes.

The infested ball enters their side, aiming straight for Atsumu. Sakusa sees him wince as he receives it, and it rebounds to their back-up setter, who without hesitation, calls out Sakusa's name, because he's their spiker after all.

Sakusa instinctively jumps, the action ingrained in him after hundreds of practices. He sees the ball in the air, and he really doesn't want to touch it, but his hand slams it down anyway, wrist curving completely. It smashes past the wall of blockers and he hates himself for it.

A loud cheer rises from the audience, and the lump in Sakusa's throat has grown so big air can no longer squeeze through by the sides. He faintly registers landing his jump incorrectly and falling, and his name being cried out.

Then he's being led somewhere, off the court. The person's touch is feather-light. But Sakusa can think of nothing else but the diseased arm he wishes he could detach from his body. He can feel the germs on his palm rapidly crawling to envelop his entire body. His breaths have turned wet.

He's pushed into a shower, and water he craves were hotter blasts down on him, clothing and all. He scrubs at himself till his skin turns red and there is no more soap in the dispenser.

He could have stood there under the running water for hours, but someone forcibly pulls him out and wipes him dry with a towel, though his clothes are still dripping heavily. He hears his name again and he looks up.

With blurred eyes, Sakusa sees Atsumu looking at him with almost tender concern, and they're the only ones in the locker room except for the sounds of cheers that travel through the walls.

"You're not in the game," Sakusa says.

"Fuck the game," Atsumu says.

"It's the finals."

"Fuck the finals."

Sakusa stares at him, then stares at his wet shoes. "You should be playing."

Atsumu steps closer to him. "I meant what I said last time, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa doesn't reply.

Atsumu takes another step. "Let's go, I'll send you home."

"Coach will be mad," Sakusa mutters.

"Let him be", Atsumu spits out, "I couldn't care less about him right now."

"You don't have to, I can reach home myself," Sakusa protests, but his voice is half-hearted.

"I know," Atsumu insists, "but I want to."

Atsumu rifles through his bag to pass him some dry clothes, and the sight of someone else touching his things doesn't unnerve Sakusa as much as it should. Because it's Miya Atsumu, he guesses.

And when Atsumu grabs him by the hand and drags him out the gymnasium, and he can't recall the last time he was touched with so little hesitance and caution, he doesn't care, because it's Miya Atsumu.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and thoughts are always greatly appreciated.


End file.
